|Violent J's Weekly Freekly — 2003, May, 22nd|
The way I look at it, it's only been about a week or so since my last weekly freekly, but so what. I figured that I'd go ahead and write another one now for ya anyway. I gotta lotta adventures and shit to tell you about. But holy fuck y'all, you wouldn't believe how fuckin crazy things are here at Psychopathic Records. I've seen shit I never dreamed I'd see, and I've heard shit I cant believe I've heard.
Anyway, we just got back from Australia and man, that shit was fuckin' crazy. Shit man, so much shit went on over there that I could write a book about it. But instead I'm going to tell y'all about it in this long ass Weekly Freekly. I swear to you all that everything I'm saying actually went down. It was crazy.
We stepped on the plane. 4 gang bangers / Professional crack slangers Rented a car at wholesale, rolled to the ghetto and checked in a motel
Just kiddin', those were old Ice Cube lyrics. But when I wrote , "We stepped on a plane", it just reminded me of that song. Anyhoot, we stepped on the plane from Detroit, flew the 4 stale ass hours to LA to stay the night there first. We went out that night in LA and blah blah blah. But wait! We did hang out with our homie Roy from Soda FX and he showed me and Shaggy our new action figures which are the shit. My favorite ones by far.
The next afternoon we headed to LA X International to jump on our 14-hour flight to Sydney Australia. Blaaam, I'm chillin' in the airport and who walks right by me, but never even makes eye contact at all or even notices me standing there? Pamela Lee Anderson Rock. That's right, my X-Bitch (yeah). There she was walking with her big ass titties and all. She was with 2 or 3 thug security ninjas for some reason and they were scooting by in a major hurry. I really wonder what she would have said to me had she noticed me standing there. If anything. After I told everybody in the world about our first meeting on the Howard Stern show, she's gotta hate me now. Or maybe she was high on some shit that night and don't even remember me. Who cares anyway. I copped a peep of her fat ass as she walked away and was over it. Fuck her. I gotta 14-hour flight to worry about in this bitch. I started eatin' some of my new anxiety pills that my mental Dr. gave me for the flight. God knows that I wouldn't wanna have a panic attack on that bitch and start chokin' out flight attendants and tryna open the plane doors and shit.
So I pretty much slept the whole 14 hours right on by some how. One very funny thing did happen on that flight though. I'm not sure if I should tell you about it, but fuck it. See the rear of the plane was half-empty. My best shot at laying down was the middle row of chairs. There were 4 chairs across in the middle row. My best shot was a row that had 3 seats empty. The forth seat had some little old dude from England sittin' in it. So I took that row, and laid down. Now of course I'm way too fuckin' tall and gumpy to sit comfortable across three airplane seats so I had to kind of curl up in a fetal position across the three seats. In other words my ass and feet were mere inches away from the old Crumpet dude.
At first I thought I'd never be able to actually fall asleep like this but then I stuffed one of them little airplane pillows between me and everywhere that hurt. Finally I had reached comfort. Hopefully that dude don't mind my big ass in his face. That's when it happened. I almost was asleep and just in time I woke up and caught my self before my butt farted. It woke me right up with fear.... I was thinkin'
"Holy fuck man, I almost just farted on this guy. I gotta watch that shit... fuck man...."
Then I slowly drifted off to sleep... and then.... AGAIN!!! Caught it! Just in time.
"Fuck man that time was really close too. Man, its just a lil ass fart but it wont go away". I was concerned about it, but I was more concerned with fallin' asleep. I drifted off again... Hours must have past because I farted on that ninja so hard it woke me up, after it happened. I just laid there with my face thankfully covered in airplane blankets, so I never had to see his reaction. It was an accident and I didn't mean to school his ass. But man. I was asleep, though. I couldn't help it. I tried to keep my butthole awake and on guard duty but them pills my doctor gave me had even it dosed off. Maybe, hopefully the guy was asleep too, I never got up to look. I just lade there faking like I was asleep until I was again for real. Looking back though, If the guy wasn't asleep, then he must know that it woke me up because I suddenly stopped snoring after I did it. Either way, he got his fuckin' face farted on and that sucks. But, its happened to the best of us. Never me though.
Once we landed in Sydney it was just like in the song... We rolled to the ghetto, and checked in a motel. This ghetto was called "Kings Crossing". Our Australian record company Shock Records, put us up knowing where we'd wanna be. In the hood. See, we ain't never been much on sight seeing or tourist attractions and shit like that. When we go someplace new we like to see the people, and not just the people, but the real side of the streets. I wanna know what its like there, because I know that if I was from that place, I'd most likely be one of them hangin' out there.
But this shit was on some other. Fuckin brothel houses left and right. Hookers with AIDS hangin off they lips walkin' around offering blowjobs for 10 bucks. Junkees with SARS breath walkin' around tongue kissin' fools. I mean I've seen this all before, but never so much in one place. Thieves, crooks, killas, fags, hookers, dealers, homos, junkies, crackheads, trans, I'm tellin' you it was all up and down this block right around the corner from our motel.
See, we stayed in Sydney for 3 days so by the time we left, I knew all them people down there. That was the shit to me. I learned the ways of that block pretty good in them 3 days. Mother fuckers were robbin' us on the weed too, at first. We'd give them the loot and they'd bring back the sac but it costed so damn fuckin' much. But by the second fuckin' day I found their source. I followed one of them crackheads to the spot. It was a sandwich deli sellin' $20 bags on the low. These fuckin' crackheads and junkies have been chargin' us $50 then runnin' to the fuckin' deli for it and buyin' it for $20. After I discovered the deli myself, the crack heads and junkies feared me. Cause they all knew they had beatings coming if we crossed paths again. So they would break wide when they'd see us coming.
It was the shit being down there. But you will get your ass fuckin' hit by a car with the quickness if you ain't right. You look for traffic to be comin' from one way and BLAM its comin' from the other. They drive on the other side of the street. Even the fuckin' steering wheel is on the wrong side of the cars. Even in the malls when you try to take an escalator up, that too is on the wrong side, you gotta get it all figured out.
We included for your viewing enjoyment, an official MENU from inside of one of the hooker houses... See we thought it was a tittie bar because it looked just like one from the outside with the flashing "GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS" sign. But it was a brothel. (I haven't heard that word since the old west).
You should of seen the bitches in there too. Damn. Talk about train wreck faces. It looked like the bar scene from Star Wars in there. Alex was drunk (like the rest of us) and was trippin' on how nasty the selection of ugly ass hoes was. One bitch smiled at me and her teeth looked like a chewed up Snickers bar. I was like "Wait a fuckin' second, were supposed to pay you to hit that? How about this, YOU BITCHES can't even afford the price of this dick! We thought this was a tittie bar! This ain't no tittie bar, its a haunted house of spooky nedens." We bolted.
As I said before, in short time though we started to know the people on this fuckin' insanely dangerous block. There was a lil stray dog that I was petting all the time and all the crackheads and fiends knew the dog too. On the morning of the third day as I was headed to the smoke shop for more blunt raps, some crack heads pulled me aside and gave me the inside word... that there was a hit on our gold chains. You see, me, Alex, Billy, Shaggy, Woody and Matt had been all up and down this block over the last few days and some local gang had put the word out to all their peeps and drug buying affiliates (crack heads) to snatch them chains when they see them. I thanked the crackheads for the inside word, but assured them.... anybody tries snatchin' our shit, we'll clean this whole fuckin' block out. Luckily as I returned from the store and smoked that blunt, we just happened to be headed out to the airport and off to the next town anyway. Wheeeew!
Oh but first about the show! The show in Sydney was off the hook because it marked the very first time we've ever played Australia and seeing over 1400 Juggalos show up with painted faces and all was incredible. What the fuck, man. They knew every word to the shit just like here in the states. They moshed, slammed, crowd surfed, stage dived and everything. It felt so at home on stage. Hearing them sing those lyrics with there fresh ass accents was crazy funny sounding. It was such a trip. We honestly didn't know what to expect until Billy called us up from the venue when the doors first opened. He said its all Juggalos in line, tattoos, painted up, red and black hatchets everywhere, Its all to the good.
You wanna know how we felt taking the stage that fuckin' night? Let me ask you this... how would you fuckin' feel. Your on the other side of the planet, in a place you've never even been before and there's all them people out there welcoming you and your crazy ass ways. Their painted up and down with the clown. I felt like I do at the Gatherings. I felt like I do at Hallowicked. I felt like I did the day the Wraith came out. I think there is just a Level 10 happiness and diamond rain that I reach from time to time when things absolutely overwhelm me with freshness. And steppin' on stage there, that first show night in Sydney, was one of them times.
But it wasn't so cool behind the scenes. The show promoters had told us a gang of bullshit. They told us that if one single 2 Liter, empty or not, leaves the stage in any fashion, the show will get cancelled on the spot. They will pull the plug right then and there.
Secondly we didn't have any real Faygo. There are many reasons why we couldn't bring the Faygo over there. The main one is because Faygo Soda Pop is a food product, and that requires all kinds of special licensing and shit to get it threw international customs. The other reason is we couldn't prove that were not going to sell the Faygos. They refused to believe that we were just going to use 4000 Faygo 2 liters to dump on people. It was just straight up impossible to bring real, fruity fresh ass Faygo with us and that sucked. It was the same thing when we toured in Europe them times before. There just ain't shit we can do about it. Embarrassed and ashamed we had no choice but to use.. Diet Coke. In these funky lookin shaped bottles. And man that shit burns the fuck out of your eyes. You wouldn't believe how lame Coke is. Faygo don't even really burn at all. Faygo is just perfect.
We did the same shit with the Coke two liters none the less, but we tried to keep the 2 liters of faggot ass Coke from going into the crowd. The promoters were all over Billy and Alex through out the whole show. Plus they only gave us 250 faggot ass Cokes so we had to ration them throughout the show. Sydney Juggalos didn't seem to give a fuck less. I mean yes, of course they wanted real Faygo, but they were not about to let that ruin the fuckin' show. From what many of them told us, they've waited years and years to see ICP live, with or without real Faygo. And we've waited to see them, so it was all to the goodness.
Man, even to this day I'm still having new adventures and seeing new places and faces. I seen ABK tatts over there, Esham tatts, you name it. Everybody was painted up like us or Twiztid or Blaze. It was unreal. Somehow, someway they even had the chant of "Family" going prior to each show!
But only the Sydney promoter turned out to be an asshole. They other three shows went off the hook as normal with no "special rules", there was all the regular divin', flyin', screamin', cryin and all that good shit.
We did an in-store at an HMV in Sydney too. This would be the first official sit down meeting of ICP and most of these Aussy Juggalos. There was about 4 or 5 hundred Juggalos there to see us but half way threw the in-store, we found out some staleness. We found out from a few complaining Juggalos that for this in-store they HAD TO PURCHASE a Wraith album or a "Juggalo Homies" single to get a ticket to meet us. In other words they gotta pay to get a stale ass autograph. Many bands do it that way, but not us. We've never charged for a fuckin autograph because personally we feel autographs ain't really shit. It's just scribble on a paper no matter who it's from (as I glance at my Eddie Vedder autograph on my wall).
So we informed our Australian label rep and a fellow Juggalo (truthfully too, not lying), a guy named Brett, we informed him that we don't do in-stores like this. And if the other 3 in-stores we're set up to do in Australia are set up like this one is, then he should just cancel them now. It's not an option, we just won't show up if we hear the ninjas had to pay. He understood and agreed. It was some bullshit when you really think about it. Like anybody in this world is actually so fresh that they should cost money to meet them. Fuck that.
The next day in Brisbane, Australia we got to the in-store and quickly found out it was the same shit. Brett our Juggalo rep had been there all day doing his best at handing out free tickets and all that, but still, most of the tickets were bought weeks ago, meaning most ninjas had to pay again. We were pissed the fuck off. But we did the in-store anyway because the Juggalos had been waiting all day. We finally told Brett to go ahead and cancel the other 2 in-stores right now because we ain't doing them. It's out. We don't charge for autographs. That's it. To the Aussy Juggalos that wanted us there anyway, man it's a matter of respect for you, and the Juggalo fam. We just ain't with that. We told Brett to get the word out now so nobody shows up thinking were gonna be there. "TELL THE 2 REMAINING RECORD STORES THAT WE AIN'T COMMING NOW." I barked at him.
Apparently the word didn't get out quick enough as the next night's in-store ended nasty when we didn't show up. They even had the news camera crews on live TV down there and everything. Juggalos were pissed off and going crazy. I know that many Juggalos feel we should of did the other two in-stores anyway, despite the little price tag, but this is how we look at it. It ain't about the money to us, what's crazy is both the record store and the record label don't even know and understand what a Juggalo really is, so I hate to see them charge us to be together like that. Most Juggalos there are already buying the fuck out of T Shirts and CD's and everything else anyway right? There already gettin' paid enough, we all are. But to tack on an extra, mandatory fee to even meet us is a fuckin' rip off. Some Juggalos already might own half of our CD collection, but just happen to be flat broke that day. No money. Does that mean that we ain't signing there shit?? I cant live with that thought. I'd rather just be a dick and not sign anybodys shit at all because once again, autographs don't mean that much to us. The real party is the shows. (As I just explained to my Australian homie Lee) That's what really matters to us.
Plus, listen to this... In the states when we do in-store appearances we try and make it into a whole fun house type deal where ninjas get to see more than just ICP chillin' when they come for an autograph. We bring a set complete with walk threw props and shit, and still never once thought about charging for that shit. Ever. Meetin' ninjas and making fuckin' friends is and always should be free no matter who the fuck you are. So fuck Kevin Nash and his $25 dollar autograph at the flee market.
Anyway the shows were the shit though. So was all the fuckin' press we got. We made front page on like 3 or four weekly papers that we saw. Man we were actual stars over there. We did a gang of TV interviews and radio interviews, we even talked with MTV Australia and I was quick to point out that MTV America eats butt. It was crazy.
After the 3 straight days in Sydney, we then traveled by plane every night. There were ninjas waiting at the airports, hotels, everywhere we went we ran into Juggalos. Many of them that had traveled by train or bus for 6 or 7 hours to come to the show. Many lived in the real outbacks too with fuckin' real ass kangaroos and fuckin' snakes. It was unreal. Everybody talked like The Crocodile Hunter too. And they fuckin' love the fuck out of some rugby.
This one chick I met, Heidi, man she was the shit man. She was the shhhhiiiiiit. What a bomb ass chick. She told me that she was raised in a house with wicker walls and they had a 9 foot long bush snake living in there living room. I couldn't believe it. Then I put my own 9 foot snake in her bush. We were on the other side of the planet and I was chillin' with actual fuckin' Juggalos. That's crazy, but I guess we owe alot of that to the Internet. She's supposedly coming to the Gathering too. I hope so. I hope mad Aussy Juggalos are commin!
After shows we'd go out and shit, all of us would get drunk. That night in Melbourne, we were standing out front of the hotel trying to wave down a cab, but that was impossible because they were fuckin' comin' from behind us up the wrong side of the fuckin' road. Finally we turned around and started flaggin' them down, but I guess, once again this hotel was located in a sleezy part of town. No cabs would stop for us. Shaggy's crazy hair and my neck tattoos, and Alex's mean, mafia poster just had ninjas not wantin' to stop for shit. So as we're standing there in the street, I'm peepin' around and I notice these 5 chicks and a dude on the corner. The dude I'm pretty sure was gay though, so 6 chicks basically. They were being all loud and laughin' and then I see this other dude kind of slowly step up to them. He snatches one of the bitches purse and bolts across the street. Within' that split second, I was on THAT ASS.
BLAAAM!! "Come on, he snatched her shit" I announced to Shaggy and Alex as I launched off after the ninja. The ninja was quick, with purse swingin' in hand he headed down some steps. With me quick on his ass I was steady yellin' shit. "Ya mine mudda fucka! You are mine!" We flew down about 4 flights of steps into a tunnel that walks you under a river. In the tunnel I continued my taunts "Drop it or your gettin' beat the fuck down..." He kept looking back to see if I was still on him and I was. I was like "Yeah, I'm still here bitch I ain't going nowhere". See, I can run my ass off these days because I do it so much at night. I love running, and I can run for miles and miles. So once I locked into my pace, and my shine kicked on, he knew he was dead. By now we were running along a walk path, threw a park next to this big river. I was gaining on him. The only thing wrong was my heavy ass Hatchet Man charm kept checkin' me in the face, so for a split second I closed my eyes as I pulled it off over my head. When I opened my eyes, the ninja was still running, but I noticed the purse was gone. I chased him all the way up over a bridge before finally saying fuck it, why chase this fool when he ain't even got the purse any more? Fuck this dude.
I turned around and looked for the purse on my way back , but I assumed the worst. The fuckin' dick ass probably just threw it in the river. Maybe when I took my charm off and wasn't looking. I kept looking as I walked back and met with Joey and Alex. I was pissed. "I think he tossed it into the river to get me off his ass. Fuck it whatever." I was pissed as hell. Finally on our way backs we ran into the 6 girls. They thanked us for trying and they were hella cool.
What pissed me off the most about that shit was as this fuck was running with purse in hand, he was running right past other ninjas who did nothing about it. When they seen my ass on him screamin' THIEF! What the fuck is wrong with weaklings?
Anyway we soon found ourselves back in front of the hotel facing the wrong way, and tryna wave a cab down. I was so pissed off I told Joey and Alex,
"Man, I don't even feel like going out tonight man, fuck that." They were like...
"No man come on... fuck that shit man. At least we tried." We did too, we didn't even look to see if any cars were comin' or nothing. We just bolted right out after his ass.
Suddenly here comes the girls again, the 5 chicks and a fag, and they're all happy and smiling and they hold up the purse! We were like "Woah!!! Where was it?" they told us that they found it in a bush just before the bridge. Man, that was the shit. We saved the day for that girl. We chased that mother fucker down on his ass until he tried to stash the purse in a bush, so he could come back for it later. Fuckin' crackhead. That was the shit. We shined so hard that night, the sun was jealous and didn't even come out the next day.
Being a former thief myself, I know the game. He should have known the game better. See, he made his move at the wrong time because we were standing there a little ways down the block. He should of scoped us out harder first. He should of peeped out OUR SHINE. See, he just went for the purse and figured nobody else would give a fuck, and they didn't either. But we did. When I was chasing him down, not one good Samaritan we past even did so much as stick an arm out on him for a good old cloths line or nothing.
None the less the thief should have peeped game. Let me tell you all a lil somethin' (if anybodys still reading this) a lil somethin' from the old school. You ready? It goes like this...
"Game recognize game, mother fucker." You know what that means? That means before he made his hustla move he should of peeped around to make sure there wasn't any others hustlas out there. Because there was... us. Fresh as hell.
I'm not lying about this shit either, moments later we give up on a cab ride and start walking to a club said to be a few blocks down. We get to the corner and here comes these lil kids runnin'. Maybe 5 or 6 of them. They were squatters, or homeless by choice kids. They were all runnin' across the street together and suddenly I hear some tires screech and we look up just in time to see BAM!!! The last kid gets nailed by one of them Frenchy egg shaped cars! Holy fuck man, the kid few 10 feet in the air and over, hit the floor, and then sprung right back up like the Riddle Box. He was in shock. Wobbling around aimlessly. He had to be only 11 or 12 years old. The kid was in shock. The driver of the car got out and yelled "Man, kid, what the fuck is wrong with you runnin' in the street like that" I just overcame with rage and screamed back at him "Whats wrong with him? What the fuck wrong with you, mother fucker? Your the one that just hit this little ass kid!" Then the guy put his hands on his head and was stressin' hard. He was like "aawww shiit maaann."
Meanwhile the kid was actually starting to come back around, he asked for his other shoe which had flown way the fuck off and I tossed it to him. He then looked at I guess one of his boys and said in his fresh Aussy accent "I just got hit by a fucking car mate" then they all walked off.
That whole night was fuckin' crazy. I almost had to beat some kid's ass out at that club too. I'm standing there and some drunk kid comes up to me. He's got two other people kind of trying to hold him back from saying something to me, ‘cause the ninja kept saying, "I don't give a fuck mate, I'm going to say it to him, fuck what he thinks about it" Once I heard that I stepped right up in his drunk ass face and said
"You got something to say to me mother fucker? Come on and say that shit." By this time of the night I was half crazed as it was.
He then replied "All I'm saying is that I respect Australian hip hop more than American hip hop and I don't give a fuck how you feel about that." Whatever that meant. Then I asked "Was that meant to diss me in some way? Are you trying to offend me right now? Because I'm taking it like your tryna start some shit with me."
He said "I reckon what I'm saying is, I don't really care if your offended or not."
I'd had enough of this stupid conversation at this point. I flipped out. I grabbed him by the neck and threw his ass clear across the fuckin' whole floor. I mean I threw his ass hard as fuck by the neck straight up. I was pissed, not because I wanna defend Americas hip hop or any dumb shit like that, I was pissed about him testing me in any kind of way all up in my face. The bouncer who witnessed the whole thing threw his drunk ass out because he knew that the kid was just some drunk hater mesmerized by the shine of our mere presence in that fuckin' club. He had to say something because the hater in him just couldn't take it no more. Our shine was melting him I guess. The fuckin' fag.
I learned 3 major, major new things from this short Australian tour, 3 new things I now know about this life that I didn't know before.
1. I had no idea that Juggalos were that down with our music in Australia. Or that there was even that many. It was crazy. They were exactly the same as American Juggalos only they never get to see shit. Well that's all changing, because now our whole catalog is out in Australia on Psychopathic/Shock including Esham, ABK, Blaze and all of them. So now that we've been there and we know what time it is... we'll now school it. Wait and see. Look for the whole gang (except Twiztid who doesn't fly on planes) to be over there within' the next 12 months.
2. I learned that where there are people there will be hustlas, hookers, thieves, and ghettos anywhere on the globe.
3. I learned that Juggalos come from all walks of life. Rich, poor, city, suburb, farm, jungle, dessert, ice lands, and even the fuckin' outbacks, living in wicker houses with bush snakes living under the couch. Juggalos are world fuckin' wide.